DethTykes
by hollywoodmagic
Summary: Charles Foster Ofdensen thinks his job is harder than parenthood, imagine how easy his job will seem when he has to parent the world's seventh largest economy, DethKlok.


Charles Foster Ofdensen, a man who holds a very prestigious and sought after title; The manager of DethKlok. Although he has no children he has DethKlok, and that's so close to having kids it could kick you in the face. His job is not unlike that of your average soccer mom, he has to keep them out of trouble, make sure they get where they have to be on time, make sure they don't hurt themselves, keep them happy, feed them (well, actually they have a chef for that), you get the picture. Yeah, managing the world's seventh largest economy is a tough job that only he has the patience to do, but little did he know that he was about to find out just how tough a job _parenthood_ is…

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The sound of laughter filled the main room of Mordhouse as Skwisgaar and Toki flipped through the pages of Toki's old baby photo album.

"I can't believe yous parents thought you was a little girl!" Skwisgaar laughed again, pointing to the picture of a younger Toki clad in a little pink skirt.

"Shut down Skwisgaar! Is not funnies! I shoulds have burn this whens I got it ins da Death Mail!" Toki retorted angrily. He grabbed the light blue photo album from the Swede's grasp and started heading for the hallway. Despite what he just said, he was never going to burn anything his parents sent him. As hard as he tries to loathe them both he still cares about them a tiny bit, and anything from them held sentimental value to Toki.

The Norwegian was just about the leave the room when the exit was obstructed by two more of his band mates, Pickles and Nathan Explosion. He tightened his hold on the book knowing what was about to happen, but it would be no use.

"Hey, what are you guys laughing about?" inquired Nathan, ignoring the fact that Toki looked more annoyed than jolly.

"Toki baby pictures," Skwisgaar informed the other two, "His parents thinked he was little girlies!" His laughter was calming down, probably because it isn't quite as funny unless you're actually looking at the pictures.

Curious smiles spread across Pickles and Nathan's faces as their gazes fixed on the book Toki was clutching defensively to. Pickles was the one to snatch it from the other's hold.

"Holy crap, you're right Skwis," Pickles agreed, flipping to a random page. The drummer and the vocalist joined in the laughing. Poor Toki was getting even angrier.

The guitarist ripped his shirt off, showing off his perfect physique. "I ams not a little girlies anymores!" he defended, "I ams big, strong mans now! I haves a manly mustache now, too." Toki's plan to shut his band mates up worked like a charm. Seeing him shirtless always made everyone else feel uncomfortable with themselves, after all the other four were either fat or scrawny. Everyone in the room coughed and looked away from each other, they were probably sulking in their own shame. Toki beamed.

The atmosphere changed when their manager, Charles Foster Ofdensen, stepped in. "Might I ask what you boys are doing in here?" he asked. He looked at Toki, now uncertain if he really wanted to know.

"We were just, uh, looking at some old pictures of Toki." Nathan responded.

"Well, put it away for now. You guys should know that you're about an hour late for the Duncan Hills endorsement concert you're supposed to be playing right now." His was voice monotonous as ever. Everyone stared at the manager like he was speaking another language. "The concert you agreed to do last month?" Still no response. "You were all drunk."

"Oh, oh yeah, okay," the four musicians echoed. Drunk, no wonder they couldn't remember.

"Mhmm, yes, well the Death Jet is waiting to take you to the concert," he said as he started out of the room, "Oh, and someone go wake up Murderface."

Pickles, Nathan, Toki, and Skwisgaar eyed each other competitively. Their fingers shot up and touched their noses in a second. "Ha, too slow!" Toki taunted the Swede, who was the last to reach his nose, "Serve yous right!" Waking up Murderface after a night of intense drinking was never a fun job.

_To be continued…_

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Ahaha. I suck at writing endings. D:

Well, this is my first shot at writing a multi-chapter story worth reading. I'm going to try to see this through to the end.  
Sheet, this chapter was shorter than I thought. I'll try to make the next one longer.


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